


Something You Will Never Know

by Schemilix



Series: Blood and Gold [8]
Category: Final Fantasy Tactics
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:38:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schemilix/pseuds/Schemilix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The question of how a man becomes... other... can be deceptively simple at the quick of it. There's no need to like someone to feel devotion - and no need to like oneself to wish for more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something You Will Never Know

”If I were to ask you, ‘What is the difference between angel and demon’, Loffrey - what would you say?”

Folmarv has the damned stone in his hand while he talks, running his fingers along its facets. To watch him it is both… absurd, both absurd and uncomfortable. Too intimate.

”I would say that one is evil, one is pure,” I reply. 

A smile. He reads me, he always did, and I can guard my expression how I like, but not from Tengille. A fact I often forget, and find frustrating.

”Is not evil pure?” he says.

I have to concede to that.

”One is good, then.”

Again the smile. There isn’t anything mirthful about it. There never is.

”And who defines good?”

”The Gods.” For a moment I bite my tongue, then tell him, sharply, “Ser, I am not a child or a plaything. What is it you want?”

”Patience.” Folmarv’s laugh has changed recently, I notice - he rarely allows himself to, so it had taken some time to recognise. It comes more from his chest than before, more like a purr. I remain silent, waiting for him. “What say you of monsters?”

I can see the answer he wants in his face. At least this glass sees both ways, then. “They are subjective.”

”And both angels and monsters are beyond man. What say you of… death, then?” 

The change of tack has me squint at him, has me look closer. Something is wrong about his eyes - nothing physical so much as an expression there that I am unable to get a hold of. This discomforts me more than what it might be… men and books are the same to me. If I cannot see…

I have to think on my reply, stimmied as I am. 

”I fear it insofar as any warrior does… ser. No more or less.” 

Fear it in the heat of battle, fear it when blood-drenched and sweating, fear it in others - but in days, in nights, embrace it, almost search. Is that a warrior, or is that only a man?

Folmarv interjects into my thought process, as if he can see it plain, “Death, or life eternal?”

”An eternity of emptiness either way, my lord,” I confess.

”Life eternal, with purpose? Does that better suit you?”

I will not play this game any longer. “What mean you to say, Folmarv? There is a point to all of this.”

”I mean to say a man of your intelligence deserves something beyond a pointless grave.”

”And a man of my intelligence is not susceptible to idle flattery, least not from you. What is it you want?”

In battle he is my commander but outside - I do as he asks of my own accord and no others… and defy where I will. if I am the only person to stand up to Tengille’s infernal caprice then so be it. Cletienne seeks the easiest path, Barich wouldn’t stand up to a flea.

Men oft underestimate the silent ones among them.

Folmarv hasn’t replied. I allow myself to narrow my eyes at him, slightly. His are yellow-gold, a lion’s eyes… he has been waiting for me to notice.

”So that is why you have changed, Folmarv. What happened to you? You speak so, what angel are you now? What monster?” My voice sounds strange, looking at the stone. _I know_. 

”I am Hashmal. Bringer of Order. And you. Who are you?” 

”Loffrey Wodring.” This has not the feel of a game any more.

”And?”

”A Templar.”

”And?”

”…Nothing else.” The admission has my anger spike. When was the last time I felt angry, rather than tired?

”I will tell you. You are Hume. You are mortal. You are fallible. You seek mean goals. You are a vessel.”

Hashmal hands me the stone, and I take it with reverence not for what the object is, but for the fact that it has barely left his grasp since he found it. It thrums with naked power. 

I notice that it whispers with my heartbeat, which both flutters and pounds - something profound is in here, and it has chosen me.

_Treat with me_.

While the thing in Folmarv has burned him away, the being the stone seeks now is empty - it is a nameless power, beyond my comprehension, but it is…

_Mine_.

The light of the archaeodemon is blinding, gold as heaven, searing as hell. When I reach out to it, our souls meet, and I think I hear the world scream.

**Author's Note:**

> Flashback that was to be part of Lion's Roar but, honestly, there's no point in my expending effort in writing the damned thing, so I'll just post it piecemeal as it comes.


End file.
